Chapter 61: We already have a plan (Ch 830380921)

What Lucien needs may not necessarily be human evidence…it may also be physical evidence.
Winifred got up from the ground and stood there, blinking gently. The blood from her torn scalp slowly flowed into her eyeballs, staining them red.
All of this was seen by Bruce and Alfred who were following behind.
“Do you believe it now?” Lucian motioned for them to shoot Winifred. “The undead are mass-produced. We are all tools. I am just one of the lucky ones who awakened.”
“It’s not me you should be avenged against…it’s the Court of Owls.”
…
The blame was thrown out, and the Court of Owls caught it firmly. The next challenge is how to become the life mentor of the little bat.
By the way, escape from the police station and prison, two places that are like owl puppets.
Exposure is Lucien’s protection, and he has no doubt about one thing: if the aura of a celebrity criminal were a little weaker, he would have “disappeared”, “died suddenly” or “accidentally”.
He is well aware of his own fighting power. If he falls into the hands of the Court of Owls, he can only be used as an experimental consumable or be brainwashed into becoming a claw.
…
But there is no need to rush, at least he is safe until the court makes a ruling.
————
“He uses arias, parallelism and metaphors… although in some cases it is not appropriate, but it proves that he lives in a place where the pompous aristocratic tone of the Middle Ages is used.”
“His apparent thinness does not match his strength and speed. His immortality should be able to freeze his life at a certain moment… He is only in his twenties.”
Alfred slowly analyzed Bruce, telling him what he observed bit by bit.
Bruce turned his head to look at the night scene passing by outside the car window, and spoke, his voice still dry: “Alfred, what is the Court of Owls?”
“This is also the first time I’ve heard this.” Alfred glanced at him sideways:
“But if they did it, there wouldn’t be no signs… maybe there’s an answer in the gentleman’s study or safe.”
“If he’s right, then the Court of Owls is not something we can contend with. At least not right now.”
Bruce looked out the window, silent.
…
study.
There was no envelope, no safe, and Bruce and Alfred did not find anything related to owls in Wayne Manor.
In addition to its non-existence, it also proves how secretive the Waynes were about it when they were alive.
Bruce stood in the study and sat where Thomas once sat.
“It’s time to go to bed, Master.” Alfred pushed the door open gently and reminded.
“Let me think about it.” Bruce refused. He just sat on the leather chair and looked at the faint light cast by the lampshade.
…
Alfred gently pushed the door open again and saw Bruce sleeping on the table with a frown on his face. He looked at the dark circles around his eyes and his unstable breathing in his light sleep, then found a blanket and covered him with it.
Bruce was a very light sleeper and he opened his eyes almost the moment she laid on him.
He calmly felt the warmth of the blanket covering his body and spoke slowly:
“I found the evidence, Alfu.”
“What?”
Bruce pointed to the Wayne Group’s accounts spread out in front of him: “Every year, a huge amount of money that increases year by year is missing… This year, there is no such thing.”
“That’s probably the reason.” The young Batman showed his reasoning ability: “Dad and Mom refused to support them… for some unknown reason.”
He paused, his eyes slowly lowered, and he said softly: “Perhaps it’s because they know that claws like Jochel exist… you know, kind.”
Wayne’s charity is not for tax evasion or fame – he is the most conscientious capitalist in Gotham.
Bruce pursed his lips: “They are the ones I should kill.”
Alfred looked at him. “This is going to be difficult.”
“You’ll help me, won’t you?”
Alfred leaned over and gave him a hug: “Of course.”
…
Bruce didn’t know what the Court of Owls was, and he didn’t know when it originated.
The only thing he knew about it was its inhuman claws.
…
“I should train myself… to be like Zorro.” Bruce hugged Alfred back: “I have to make myself stronger… so that I can have revenge.”
“Yes, but that’s something that needs to be done tomorrow.” Alfred picked him up, “What we need to do now is to get a good night’s sleep…for Zorro’s sake.”
“Yes, I can do it.” Bruce looked back at the tall chair behind the desk, his attention still on the Court of Owls.
“I should have worked with him, I should have worked with Jochel.”
“He is just a tool… If the court can use him, then naturally we can use him too.”
The shadows cast across his face, making his cobalt blue eyes shine brighter.
————
The next two days were normal. I answered questions from the police and the author during the day and was harassed by the x next door at night.
But Lucien felt that being asked questions by them was less interesting than being harassed by the people next door.
At least the next door will produce different yellow waste depending on Lucian’s actions and reactions.
And those reporters and police.
Police: “What’s your name?”
Lucien: “Lucien.”
Police: “Okay, Joechel.”
Reporter: “Why did you kill the Waynes? Was it out of hatred or grudge?”
Lucian: “There is no hatred or grudge. The person is already dead when he opens his eyes.”
Reporter: “Okay, because I was fired, I observed the movement trajectory in advance. It was a premeditated murder.”
Police: “What was your purpose in giving the pistol to the only survivor after committing the crime?”
Lucian: “Just a souvenir…”
Police: “It was a provocation, I understand.”
Reporter: “Why are you shouting about the Court of Owls? What’s the purpose of this?”
Lucien: “Loyalty!”
Reporter: “You said it deliberately in order to disrupt the audition and interfere with the police investigation. I understand.”
…
Lucien lay on a blanket in the middle of the cell, listening to the pornographic talk next to him with his eyes closed.
…
It was the stinging pain caused by the foreign object expelling flesh and blood that woke him up.
Lucien opened his eyes and saw Bruce, whom he hadn’t seen for two days.
“By the way, whether it’s waking someone up with a bullet or greeting them, it’s not very polite.”
“But it worked.” Bruce put the gun down.
Lucien looked at him in the dim light and smiled indulgently: “You are right, so, what is the matter?”